Blur
by Liebling
Summary: ‘And I wonder how long he’s been broken like this. I wonder how long I’ve been broken too.’ A Ginny Weasley ficlet.


**Author's Notice:**  To be incredibly honest with you I don't like the narrative at all in this fic. It very bluntly—stinks. However, I don't believe I could have 'pulled it off' any other way. It's meant to be very real, and it doesn't have much of _my_writing style in it.  So yeah.  I had an idea, I had a few sentences in my head and I went with it. The formatting was tough too.  It's strange (-the whole thing-) Vague, the like.  Starring Ginny Weasley.  But yeah, just read it.  It's got something good about it, I know  ;)

_Louise: You really could have been something, Mother. _

_Rose: If I could have been, I would have been. And that's show business. _

_~ Gypsy           _

-

When you look real close at something all you see is a blur.

But when you step back you can see everything.

Maybe even the blood.

And I stepped back from this, years later, after all of this hurt, all of this pain...I saw everything.

I even saw myself a very long time ago.

-

They changed when the war started.

Everyone changed, maybe even me.

-

I always thought I'd be young forever. I always thought that people only grew old in fairytales.  That in this lifetime, I would be seventeen and beautiful forever.

Maybe not so much beautiful. It never was my thing.

But the beauty of youth. Oh!  There was nothing any better.

And kissing Michael Corner, and the pastel lavatories, and hot chocolate over bricks sometime in May.

And....oh! There was nothing any better.

In all that I've lived. As old as I am now.  As aged as I am.  As wrinkled my skin now is.  As mature as I have become.  As in love as I am.  There was nothing any better.

I was so young when all of this started.

We were so young...

_...look at us now._

-

And how quickly things change!  They're here, and they're gone.  You love them and then you hate them.  They love you and then they hate you. 

The world spins quickly, and nothing stands still.  And what do you think of all that? And how quickly is your life passing?

We lived during the war. All of us.  And we're made of tougher stuff than you've ever seen.  And so much pain comes with that, and so much hurt.  And so much has been taken away from us that I don't think I remember being whole.

I could tell you everything I know and everything I've seen.  I could tell you of the dead bodies. Of the broken souls. Of the deteriorated cities.  Of the men turned to animals.  I could show you the world, you know. I could show you what it's like.

But really.  This is just a tale; just like any other tale, and it's not so much about war...it's much more about growing up.

-

I used to love Michael Corner. I mean, I used to love _love_Michael Corner. I loved Michael Corner like I loved chocolate cake, like I loved Ron's old hat, like I loved the better part of my heart.  He _was_my heart.

Loving Michael Corner was only like...nothing I'd ever been through.

I don't know what went wrong. I guess a lot of things went wrong. I guess what went most wrong was that...that things change.  People change. Maybe even your best friend.

He was very good-looking, I remember thinking_...wow, I'm never gonna find someone else like this again..._

...and I didn't.

-

When he died I thought my world ended...

-

It all comes back to the war, really. Which is all it really ever comes back to.

War. Destruction. Massacre.

Blood on your hands.  Blood on the table.  Blood on the grass.

Blood in your mind.

I don't remember when things used to be good.

-

After the war everything's going to get better. I don't know when. I don't know how. I just know it'll get better. I just know it has to.

I'm still waiting.

For the war to end, you know.

I write letters to Him every single day, and I sign them 'My Love Always, Ginny.' Because I figure it must be comforting knowing I'm not leaving. Knowing I couldn't leave.

I'm not so scared anymore, I think the being scared sort of leaves you and you're just left with this empty feeling.

I wonder if he still loves me too.

How quickly things change.

He says the fighting is...is difficult on him. On his heart, mainly. I tell him I can fix that, and he says: 'Maybe not even you.'  And I wonder how long he's been **broken**like this. I wonder how long I've been **broken**too.

I'm trapped in this house and I can't get out.

-

This is a coming of age story. It's the journey between childhood and adulthood, and it's not what you'd like to see.  I grew up to be a good person, and I still have the red hair to prove it to you.

I grew up...

...but not to be this.

I feel like my life has been taken from me.

You cannot get away from the war. You cannot hide.  You cannot run.  You cannot forget.  Because it reminds you. And it reminds you every single _bloody_day that you live.

I grew up during the war.  I grew up when darkness reigned.  I grew up when the world was a revolution.  A dusty old city covered in dead bodies.

But really.

I just grew up.

=End


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